Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic III- Kane's Identity
by Dark Brother 16
Summary: A Senator has been murdered! His killer was chased to the dust ball Tattooine, where he apparently met his end. Meanwhile, an unknown man awakes with no knowledge of himself. Who is he? Will he make something of himself, or will he decide to go down the path of the criminal? YOU DECIDE!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- The Senator is Dead!

The holonews flicked on every screen on Corescant, and probably on almost all of the Core Worlds as well. On that screen was  
the familiar face of news anchor Delilah Monegra, everyone's favorite newswoman. Her lovely face, however, was heavy with the message she was designated to tell  
the Galaxy this time.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." she began. "I am Delilah Monegra bringing you breaking news.

"In the Senate today, the debate for the latest in healthcare legislation has become even more troublesome. For those of you who  
do not know, the legislation in question is the contraversial Grand Healthcare Plan, proposed by newly-elected Chancellor Gilbierto Grandeer early last month.  
According to Chancellor Grandeer, this Plan will guarantee healthcare for the entire Republic, even to those who live in Outer Rim Worlds. But as benevolent as  
this legislation sounds, there are those who are not convinced that the proposal is going to work.

"One of those Senators was the Bothuwui Senator Naraminara Kre'las. Indeed, Senator Kre'las was the biggest voice in the  
Senate opposed to this Plan. According to Senator Kre'las, 'This Plan is an entirely naieve one. I for one am not opposed to saving the lives of the sick, far from  
it. But this Plan is not the right way to go about providing it.' Senator Kre'las has stated multiple times on this very program that this Plan is far too widely spread  
to possibly work. This Plan would provide the exact same healthcare to every recipient, regardless of the actual needs of those recipients. This Plan would also  
cost the Republic billions in credits, as Senator Kre'las was so fond of pointing out.

"Yes, I said 'was'. A tragedy has occured in the Senate today, folks. As Senator Naraminara Kre'las was leaving the Senate  
floor today, he and his entire security detail were engulfed in flames. Apparently, the explosion was deliberate. Here's footage of the incident. Viewer disgresian  
is advised, as this footage is disturbing."

The footage showed the Bothan and his four security guards enter a speeder. The driver tried to start it, but something was  
wrong. It wouldn't start running. The video then showed an individual in the crowd who held a suspicious device in his hand, who pointed it at the speeder  
immediately before it went up in a ball of fire.

"Now, law enforcement has thus far been unable to identify this individual," Delilah continued. "but what is clear is that this  
is a human male approximately six feet tall and who knows a thing or two about mechanics. This assassination couldn't have come at a worse time for the opposition  
of the Grand Healthcare plan, and Bothuwui is in a state of shock and outrage that burns even hotter than what the rest of us feel.

"This just in." she added excittedly. "Corescant authorities have lost contact with the assassin, but citizen police have managed  
to track the saboteur down, and have reportedly killed him. It's unfortunate that it had to end this way, but at least now a small amount of closure can be gleaned from  
this. Nevertheless, questions remain unanswered. Why did this happen now and not before Senator Kre'las spoke out? Who was this killer? And who, if anyone  
told him to commit this heinous crime?

"I'm Delilah Monegra, and thank you for your time. Now back to your programs."

[Standard Star Wars Intro]

A scandalous death in the Senate! After a contraversial piece of legislature was introduced,  
the primary opponent of the Grand Healthcare Plan, Bothuwui Senator Naraminara Kre'las  
has been blown to pieces in a public area. With the Corescant law enforcement hot on his  
trail, the assassin was reportedly killed in the chase as he tried to reach Tattooine.

Stunned by this abhorrent display of violence, the Senate has conveened, fearful for the lives  
of other Senators. Unable to decide what to do, the Jedi Council, having previously picked  
up the pieces from six years prior, has called for a meeting to plot a course of action. But  
with their numbers still depleted from the recent Jedi Purge, it is unlikely that the Council can  
do much at this time.

Meanwhile, the body of the assassin was never found, even though eye witnesses claim that  
it may be possible that the assassin somehow survived...

The Council had formally conveened, and the members sat down in their respective seats. This unlikely bunch had been on many  
adventures together. The Grandmaster, Bastilla Shan, was the exception to this, but she had gone on adventures of her own.

Grandmaster Shan, now a seasoned woman with her hair in a bun and flowing white and brown traditional Jedi Robes, had found  
the legendary Star Forge with Darth Revan and stopped the threat of Darth Malak,as well as the threat she had herself posed as she was under the influence of the  
Dark Side. She somehow survived the deadly Jedi Purge that concluded not six years before, and now she was taking it upon herself to help lead the Order with the  
group before her now.

Bao-Dur, a Zabrak with a soft voice, sat proudly on his seat, his laser arm shining. He had recieved the injury that had taken his  
real arm in the disasterous Mandalorian Wars, the conflict that he played a large part in ending in one cataclismic final battle at Malachor V. After the subsequent Jedi  
Civil War, which Bao-Dur had had no part in, he ran into the Jedi Exile, Meetra Surik, and eventually found the Force and overcame his anger and shame at being the  
cause of so much death at Malachor V.

Brianna, the last of Atris' Handmaidens, sat directly across from him. Her short, white hair and brilliant pale robes brought a sense  
of the unique to the Council. And indeed, the attire of each member was quite varied. Brianna's robes, however, were and heirloom she recieved from her mother, a  
Jedi who married an Echani Warlord during the Mandalorian Wars. Brianna was by no means an only child. She was the youngest of six, and, back then, she felt that  
she was the weakest of all of them. But then Meetra Surik offered her a new lease on life, the one her mother had chosen, the life of a Jedi. This choice had its own very  
heart-wrenching set of circumstances, however. Upon breaking her oath to Atris that she would never learn the ways of the Jedi, she was labelled an enemy and was  
forced to kill her own sisters.

To the left of Brianna sat the Miraluka Jedi Visas Marr, the last of her kind. She had red Jedi robes and a veil over her non-existent  
eyes. Visas had been raised in a Jedi Academy on her homeworld, because as her species was naturally blind, they were all Force-sensitive, and the majority of them  
became Jedi. That is, before he came. Darth Nihilis, one of the Sith Lords destroying the Jedi Order, came to Miraluka and used his Force powers to drain the planet  
of all life, except that of Visas. Instead, he took her up as his Apprentice and formed a Force Bond with her. Visas came into contact with Meetra when her Master  
ordered her to kill the Exile. But when Visas failed, Surik showed mercy, and even helped her to free herself of Nihilis' control by killing him.

To the right of Brianna sat Mira, the Jedi who never dreamed of becoming what she was. After losing her parents to the Mandalorian  
Wars, Mira became a bounty hunter on Nar Shadda. She made a real difference there, considering her line of work. She showed mercy to those who needed it, and  
didn't kill her targets unless she had to. This tendancy cost her, though, when she spared the life of the insane Wookie Hanharr. After joining forces with Meetra Surik  
to settle bounty disputes, Mira became a Jedi, becoming strong enough to make the right decision about Hanharr when next they met.

Sitting to Bao-Dur's right was Mical, the Order's faithful Librarian. He had studied the Jedi long before becoming one himself, but  
he never really took that final step until he crossed paths with Meetra Surik. Now he was a revolutionary Librarian, one that managed to recover enough of the artifacts  
in the Library to continue training the next generation of Padawans.

And lastly, the oddment of the Conucil, Atton Rand. This scoundrel wore no Jedi Robes, but rather chose to wear a custom made  
ribbed jacket. Atton was always a troublemaker before he met Meetra Surik. He joined up with Darth Revan during the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War,  
killing Jedi on orders from his superior. One day, he decided that he didn't want to do it anymore. He found that he was Force sensitive when a Jedi he was torturing  
openned his mind. From then on, he ran away from both the Jedi and the Sith, hiding his Force adeptness. But he began to develope feelings for Surik. He eventually  
openned up to her and she showed him the ways of the Jedi.

This Jedi Council was surely not conventional, but they had been through quite a lot. And that was why the fact that they were all  
so troubled was disturbing. They had fought in wars, fought impossible odds on the battlefield, saved the Galaxy from total annihilation, and yet this one event bothered  
them all more than any of those other things.

"As you are all aware," Bastilla began as everyone sat down, "a Senator has been killed earlier today in full view of the public. And  
it could not have come at a worse time. Senator Kre'las was a crucial player in this debate, and he was correct in his assumptions. This new bill could deal some  
devastating damage to the Republic's economy, and it would create inequality around the Galaxy."

"But that is not why you called us here?" Mical asked in his usual politel tone.

Bastilla shook her head somberly. "Visas has had a vision, and it concerns the assassin. Visas?"

The Miraluka serenely leaned forward and began talking. "I saw a wounded soul, one that begged for guidence. From us. It was  
the one that committed this crime, but it wanted another chance. It wanted help. The person in my vision was being hounded by many relentless foes, and because of  
their conflict, the Republic burned." As the gravity of this sank in, she continued. "This Senator's death has set in motion a chain of events that could destroy the very  
fabric of our civilization."

"Could?" Atton asked hopefully.

"Indeed. The future is always in motion."

Boa-Dur was confused and stated in his small voice, "I thought the assassin was killed."

"We need to go and look for him." Mira insisted. "If he's really this important, then we can't just leave him out there to do whatever  
he wants."

"It's possible that even now the will of the Force is in motion." Bastilla told her. "If Visas' vision is to come true, either way, he will  
find his way to us."

This didn't sit well with Atton. "So, we're gonna just sit here and do nothing?" he asked indignantly. "Like we did during the  
Mandalorian Wars?"

"Control yourself Atton." Bastilla snapped. "If we were to go out there and look for this assassin, where do you suggest we start?"

"I dunno. Why don't ya ask Visas? She seems to know everything."

"That is technically not true." Visas insisted.

"We don't all have to go, Bastilla." Mira suggested. "Just a few of us would be enough."

But Bastilla was obstinant. "The Republic needs us here right now. The political turmoil cannot be entrusted to the politicians that  
may exploit it. Believe me," she added to the looks of resentment she recieved, "we have thought through every option, and this is the only one that allows a stable  
Republic to exist, if for a little while longer."

In the end, the others agreed to obey the Council's decision. There was still grumbling about it, but the Council's decision was  
made. They could help the Republic best by just remaining with the beaurocracy, and letting the assassin's fate play out.

**This story is based on the Bourne movies, Star Wars, Knights of the Old Republic, and even some aspects of real life. None of this is meant to be offensive, keep in mind, but it is also based upon my opinion of that reality. To keep it more agreeable to those with differing opinions, I have either grossly exaggerated that aspect of reality, or changed more than half of it entirely. **

**So leave a review, please, and if you find any of this series (yes, series) to be offensive, please PM me and let's talk about it.**


	2. Chapter 2- Questions

Chapter 2- Questions

Around the time that the Council was debating this issue, a banged-up smugglers' ship orbitted Tattooiine in search of the salvagable  
parts that the ship had. Not a few hours ago, a small, fast, fairly expensive ship came out of Hyperspace, pursued by what could possibly have been bounty hunters,  
or some other similar sort of people, because their ships certainly didn't have the make of a Republic ship. Whoever these people were, whatever their argument was,  
was not really any of the smugglers' concern. All they wanted was valuable parts.

But to their chagrin, there was nothing left except for cinders and unrecognizable junk, which would definitely not fetch anyone  
top dollar. After three slow hours of searching, the captain announced, "Alright, let's get outta here. Ain't nothin' we gonna find from this ship."

His first mate, however, found something. "Sir, what's that?" she pointed.

Everyone else stared in the direction she indicated. An Escape Pod! The captain grinned. "Ha! Jackpot, me lovely. Good eye."

They approached the Escape Pod and pulled it in with a Tractor Beam. Then began to pry it open. As they did so, they discovered  
a survivor. He was pretty tall, had buzzed black hair, and oddly enough, a gunshot wound to the back of his head. He had somehow survived it, though there was no  
explaination as to how or why. As the captain was a reasonably kind-hearted Weequay, he had the survivor taken to the Medbay.

Later on, they established that there was nothing of value in the Pod, so the Captain and First Mate made their way to the Medbay  
to check on the guest. "How's the survivor?" the Captain asked the ship's doctor droid.

"In surprisingly stable condition." the droid replied. "But there's something odd about this man."

"Aside from the fact that he survived a gunshot to the head?" the First Mate asked sarcastically.

But sarcasm was lost on the droid. "Actually, yes, stranger than that. He appears to be human, but his physiology is all wrong. Well,  
not wrong in a dangerous way, I suppose, but most humans don't have muscle mass like he does. His skin tissue also seems to be thicker than human flesh. His  
heartrate is also rythmic, but slow, almost as if he's relaxing, resting."

"That is pretty weird." the Captain said more to himself than anyone else. "What are ya, my friend?"

He moved to open the unconscious man's eyes, but before he could get the chance to touch him, the mysterious man's eyes whipped  
open, and he swatted his hand away, lunged at him, and beat him repeatedly. The First Mate yelped in surprise, and the Medical Droid moved in with a tranquilizer  
syringe. It tried to jab the patient with it, but the man sidestepped, grabbed the arm, and ripped it out of the droid's socket. As the First Mate pulled out her stun pistol,  
the Medical Droid was pushed toward her, knocking her over.

By now, the alarm had gone off, and more of the smugglers were showing up. After the first two that showed up took in what had  
happenned, they struggled with their firearms, recieving blows that sent them flying across the hall. The man bolted left when more showed up and began firing stun  
blasts at him. They followed him through the ship, occassionally trying to cut him off and being punished for it with physical trauma.

The Captain regained his bearings and helped the First Mate up, then commed the rest of the ship and insisted, "Everyone, listen  
up! I don't want 'im killed, got it? If ya get a shot, set for stun." He turned to the First Mate. "Okay, let's go find 'im."

They deduced that the man would try to make his way to the hangar, and indeed found him holed up behind some boxes, getting shot  
at. But he had acquired a gun for himself, and was shooting back. He didn't seem to be aware of the secret door that he was standing beside, though, so the Captain  
motioned for five of his smugglers to go in from behind and incapacitate him. When the door openned, however, the man reacted almost as if he had been expecting  
it, and wall jumped out of reach. He was in the line of fire now, though, so he returned his attention to the firefight. Soon, a lucky shot hit him in the leg, causing him to  
cry out. The five guys who were sent to grab him used this opportunity to perform their task and knocked him to the ground. But the struggling man wasn't out of fight  
just yet, as it seemed. He struggled against them, breaking a few noses and giving out a few black eyes. He yelled out in frustration, but it was no use. The smugglers  
tranked him.

After the chaos was finally over, one of the smugglers stared incredulously at the Captain and said, "What the hell was that?"  
through a mouthfull of blood. He had been kicked in the face and his tongue was bleeding.

The Captain had no answer, but he did have an idea.

The man woke up with a start. He noticed that he was tied to an operating table, and the first thought that came to his mind was that  
someone was about to experiment on him. He struggled against his binds and found that they were made of durasteel. Wait! How did he know that? He stopped pulling  
and noticed something else. The ship he was in was a twenty-seven year old Hutt Clan spice hauler, and he was five hundred, thirty-one meters from the hangar, where  
he could expect to find two smaller, faster ship and a tractor beam. How did he know that? He knew exactly how the layout of the ship worked in his favor. He knew  
almost anything there was to know about all of the medical equipment around him, and he knew how to use it to kill people. He knew how many people were on the ship,  
even though he had no idea how. He knew how heavy, how tall, what gender and what species each of them were. How did he know that? How could he possibly be  
able to know that?

As these thoughts raced through the man's mind, the medbay door openned. "Ah," came the voice of a Weequay, who was obviously  
the Captain of the ship, judging by the condition of his attire, "you're finally back awake again. Good, good. Now, mind tellin' us who ya are? An' why ya attacked us?"

This didn't register. "What? When did I-" he trailed off. His head started hurting very badly.

The Captain blanched. "Ya don't remember? Ya very well kicked us 'round like childs' toys."

"I-I'm sorry, I don't- Gyagh!" His head hurt ver badly now. The more he tried to remember, the worse it got.

"Hey, can we get the Doc Droid in here, please?" the Captain asked his men. "Sorry if he's got only one arm, but that'd be your fault.  
And let's get them restraints off. Please. Thank ya." he added as his First Mate let him up.

The Doctor Droid, one arm missing, came in and said kindly, "Take it easy, sir. Don't overexert yourself."

"Yeah, ya kinda did enough 'a that already." the Captain commented. "Show 'im the footage."

The First Mate whipped out a hologram projector and turned it on. "This was from the ship's security feed. You regained consciousness  
and quickly began wrecking havoc to the rest of the crew. We managed to capture you within five minutes, but you put up quite a fight."

"Why don't I remember this?"

"Perhaps it's because you have sustained a blaster bolt to the Receptive Lobe." the Medical Droid offered.

"I what?!"

"You have sustained considerable damage to the back of your brain, but for some reason, only your memory lobes were damaged,  
and not very much, at that. Your skull seems to have absorbed most of the damage."

"So, I guess that means ya won't be able to tell us who ya are, huh?" the Captain asked, almost jokingly.

"I guess not. Do you have any clues?"

"None whatever." the Captain told him disappointedly. "But ya took on a dozen 'a the toughest smugglers in the Mid and Outer Rims.  
That's the only clue for ya. But look, I have a proposal to make of ya. If ya need any help findin' who ya are, then we might be able ta get ya to Tattooine ta see  
Moa the Hutt. She is the big baddie around these parts 'a space, but she may be able ta help."

The man thought it through, then noticed a tattoo on his left shoulder. It was a number: 00-01-334-70. "What's this?"

"We thought that maybe it was a prison serial number." the First Mate answered.

"Nah." the Captain insisted when he saw it. "That's a bank account number on Nal Hutta. Moa will definitely be able ta help ya. She  
knows lots 'a stuff 'bout banks on Nal Hutta. Probably been robbin' 'em in 'er youth."

Tattooine was not the kind of place that the man with no name wanted to go back to. It was the most immoral place that he could think  
of (since he couldn't remember much), there were large, smelly animals called Banthas all over the place, and sand was everywhere. The man knew he'd remember this for  
the rest of his life: he hated sand!

The smugglers took him to a major cantina called Orpheid, where loud music was played and exotic dancers danced in lewd getups.  
Drunk patrons were doing one of four things. One, they were either drinking heartilly. Two, they were sleeping, because they were too drunk. Three, they were fighting.  
Or four, they were giving the dancing girls cat calls. The smugglers and their friend pushed toward the counter, trying to gain the attention of the bartender. The man with  
no name had the misfortune of bumping into a drunk and now very angry wookie, who let out a roar of outrage and proceeded to try and rip his arms out of their  
sockets. But the man instinctively parried the attack, twisted the wookie's arm until it made a loud snap, and as the creature's cry of pain rang out and grabbed the attention  
of the entire cantina, he smashed the behemoth's face into the bartender's counter, knocking him out.

Now, judging by the stunned reactions of the various patrons, this never happenned before. This would no doubt travel quickly and the  
man with no name would become either famous or notorious within hours. But since the patrons were looking at him with frightenned expressions, it would most likely be  
the latter.

The Captain used this moment of silence to announce to the bartender, "We're lookin' for Moa the Hutt. Seen 'er lately?"

Just then, a gutteral voice said something in Huttese that, surprisingly, the unnamed man could understand. "I'm back here in the  
corner."

"Ah, Moa, ol' girl. We got somethin' for ya today that's e'en better than junk."

"And what would that be? You know I am not pleased that you just injured my best bodyguard. I doubt that his arm will ever be the  
same again, and that means he will never be able to perform his duties the same way. And that angers me."

"No worries, ma'am, we will be yer new bodyguards until ya find be'er ones. But in 'xchange, I'd like ya to do me a favor."

"Oh?"

"Well," he corrected himself as he stood and wandered closer, "not really for me. For this guy righ' 'ere." he indicated the unnamed  
man. "He has a bank 'count number on Hutta, and we was wonderin' if you could give 'im a ride. In 'xchange, we'll be your bodyguards for free until the next half orbit.  
Whattaya say?"

The Hutt scratched her chin as she muttered, "A bank account number? But only really dangerous people have bank accounts on Nal  
Hutta... What is this number?"

The man walked up to her and bore his shoulder. She chuckled in the usual Hutt way. "Very good, very good. You are a very  
dangerous one, whoever you are. You have a deal. Your ship will leave in exactly one hour. Do yourself a favor and don't miss it."

Before the ship left, the man turned to speak to the smugglers who had accompanied him there. "Listen, thank you for doing this for me.  
I'm not sure why smugglers would stick their necks out for me, but I'm indebted to you."

The Captain waved this off. "Ehh, no yer not. We probably won't see each other 'gain, since yer obviously caught up in somethin' real  
big. Just promise one thing."

"Yes?"

"If yer ever in a ship battle 'round Tattooine, be sure not ta destroy all the ships completely."

The man laughed and promised, "Okay, I'll do that." Then he turned to the First Mate, who blushed slightly as he said, "'Bye."

She was obviously taken with him, but didn't let it get in the way of telling him, "We wanted you to have this." She handed him a combat  
knife. "Just in case."

"Thank you again."

"Ah, shuddup and get on the ship." the Captain insisted.

**Here's the second chapter, everyone. Who is this man? Is he the one who killed the Senator? If so, why? Please review and stay tuned.**

**Also, as this story is based off of KOTOR, I have decided to leave what I will call Reader's Choice sections, where you choose which action the character does and read the outcome. They could be anywhere, so keep a watchful eye out, and decide who you want this man to become. He may be depending on you. ;)**


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